Blood, Ale and Glory: Tales of a Slayer
by PrinceMitch
Summary: A one-shot, short story based around my Dwarven Slayer, Thorak Grumlison, in a Warhammer Fantasy Roleplaying Game. He's pretty much a total badass, not gunna' lie.


**The River Troll**

Thorak's silhouette loomed angrily in the broken barn doorway. Glowing embers of the multitude of dying fires cast a dark shadow over his brutish, Dwarven features. His meaty hands clamped even harder down on his large axe's haft as he barely managed to control his anger. Fists shaking, Thorak took in the scene before him once more.

What once had been the home of a proud Dwarven family now lay in ruins atop the hill that he had spent the last hour trekking up. The corpses of the residents hung by their feet before him, attached to the ceiling with a length of rope that was nailed crudely to a nearby stone wall. Their beards cut and scattered below them, these dwarves had been dishonored in death.

"We should prob'ly get 'em -hic- down." A fellow Dwarf named Bardin, one of Thorak's travelling companions, had become suitably sombre ever since their travelling group had caught sight of the scorched wreck. Still, he was rather drunk so it was a great testament to how seriously Dwarves took the loss of their brother's lives that he'd calmed down so much. The casket of ale strapped to his back was probably almost empty by now, but he didn't seem to have the heart to finish it off now.

Not moving, Thorak grunted a single word, "Aye." Stumbling over to the nail, Bardin easily dragged it from the wall and the corpses fell heavily to the ground. Wincing, Thorak raised his axe to his arm and ran the blade across his bulging bicep, slicing an inch into the flesh. It was an oath made in blood; the Greenskins who did this would pay with their lives. They were the entire reason the group had travelled into the hills anyway. Bounty Hunting wasn't how Thorak expected to spend the evening, but the price on the Orc Boss' head was too great to pass up. Plus, there hadn't been a proper fight for weeks now and Thorak was champing at the bit to unleash his fury on some unwitting fool.

Only now that the bodies were closer did Thorak notice the true amount of desecration that had happened here. Bits of flesh had been nibbled from the arms and legs of the Dwarves leaving their muscles and bones exposed. From the state of the fire, this had only happened a few hours ago which meant there was a good chance of catching up with the perpetrators. Right now Thorak didn't care. A growl grew slowly in his throat, the rest of his party were lucky that there was a lot of wood nearby for Thorak to hack into pieces.

Before he had chance to act, a high-pitched voice echoed around the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Sir Dwarf, but I feel we are not alone here. Danger is approaching." Obnoxiously pompous and irritatingly polite, the High Elf wizard's voice almost shocked out Thorak out of his rage. Almost. Such an annoyance shouldn't be here. These bodies only deserved Dwarven eyes to see them.

"I suggest y'leave, Elf." Bardin's voice was dark and he seemed to have sobered up even more during the past few minutes of silent contemplation. A mug of ale was clasped in his hand, but it was held limply by his fingers and was threatening to spill and fall to the ground at any moment.  
Turning, the Elf stepped gracefully from the building, his silver hair and white and red robes flowing behind him in the mystical manner that all Elves possess. It sickened Thorak greatly. The pointy ears were always far too pompous for him but the warning he delivered pleased him slightly. If there was danger afoot, it'd give him something to sink his teeth into. Maybe even literally.

The party consisted of the two Dwarves, the High Elf mage and the another Elf, this one was one of the tree-folk. He'd skipped off to scout the surrounding area. The only reason they were working together was because of the coin they were getting as being bodyguards for a travelling spice merchant. Running his free hand through his two inch long mohawk, Thorak thought about why he even bothered sticking around. He was a Slayer; a Dwarf who'd given up everything to seek a glorious death and atone for his sins. Why would he be here when he could be charged headfirst into an Orc stronghold? Well, the free beer was a pretty good reason... With a light thud, the Wood Elf leapt into view, slightly out of breath, drawing the Slayer away from "Big red eyes... we're not alone here." Thorak shook his head and the wizard came forward, grabbing his forest brother by the shoulder in an attempt to pull him away.

"We already know that, Elf. Why don't you go back to climbin-" Thorak mumbled angrily, before being interrupted by a much larger thud. Appearing in the door behind him was the huge form of a hulking beast. The light was low enough that at first the creature couldn't be identified, but the smell gave it away pretty quickly and when the huge head peaked inside Thorak's thoughts were confirmed. A rough, scaly hide covered a twelve foot mountain of muscle. Dim-witted eyes looked around the room at his new prey and opened it's mouth, unleashing another wave of disgusting smells upon the four members of the group. A sickening gurgle erupted from within the River Troll's stomach, building in volume until the belch burst forth... quickly followed by a tsunami of vomit.

Thorak grinned madly as he laid his eyes on a foe that was finally worthy of his attention. He was a Troll Slayer, this is what he was meant to do. He could finally achieve his goal of an honorable death and even if he failed and managed to survive, he would start his path of vengeance for the poor Dwarven souls that had died here. He quickly leapt aside as the wave of corrosive sick flowed in his direction. It was almost as though the Troll didn't know who to focus on so the shot was lazily aimed. While he side stepped easily away from the projectile and readied his axe, the others weren't so lucky. Vaarsuvius, the Elven Mage, danced backwards as his robes sizzled where splashes of acid had hit him. The Wood Elf performed an epic, over-the-top leap to escape. Bardin managed to hide behind a wooden table, which quickly dissolved. Thorak guessed he was trying to save the keg of alcohol on his back just as much as his own life.

With a mighty yell Thorak charged forth. Hands grasped tightly around the axe held high above his head, he closed the distance between himself and the Troll surprisingly quickly for someone with such small legs. "Fuckin' Troll!" It wasn't the most sophisticated war cry, but with a slightly alcohol adled mind it did the job. Ducking deftly under the Troll's extending arm, Thorak hack down into the beast's elbow. The axe was huge, almost as big as the Dwarf himself, but in comparison to its target it was tiny. When the blade hit, biting deep into the flash, blood sputtered from the cut which coated Thorak in blood. With a spinning step forward, he wrenched the axe from the wound and embedded the blade into the kneecap of his foe. Yelping in pain, the Troll flicked Thorak away with his huge palm, who stumbled backwards growling and watched the slimy-skinned horror slumped forward.

Over his head flew a long plank of flaming wood, which thonked into the Trolls' head. Out of the corner of his eye, Thorak caught sight of the wizard weaving shapes with his hand and casting his magic. Knives flew through the air with a sharp swish and sank deeply into the Trolls shoulder. Any other foe would have toppled over dead, but this was no ordinary monstrosity. The blades in his shoulder slid out and fell ten feet to the ground with a tinkle and the wounds on his arm and leg stitched themselves back together. Preparing to charge forward once again before the Troll could take full advantage of his regeneration skulls, Thorak took a step forward only to fall to the ground with a burning pain in the base of his skull. Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he dragged himself up again but his vision blurred and the world span sending him back to his knees.

Reaching his around to the back of his head with a huge hang, Thorak could feel the sticky blood before he found the cause. A huge blade stuck into his flesh, probably only inches away from slicing his brain in twain. A stone handle was connected to the metallic, rectangular blade... it was a Dwarven axe. Bardin was such an idiot. Before Thorak could turn around and yell at his companion, green, damp fingers wrapped around his waist and flung him across the room. With a winding slam, Thorak hit the wall and tumbled to the floor. Anger overwhelmed his body, pulsating through his veins and turning his vision red. Having been disarmed, the only weapon left was embedded in the back of his head. Ripping the axe violently from his own head, Thorak roared and stumbled forward. The Elves were still fighting, but weaklings like them couldn't stand toe to toe with the seaweed-coated monster.

Starting at a slow pace and quickly gained momentum, the Slayer used all of his strength and focus to sprint and leap high up into the air. The Troll turned towards him, but stumbled back out of the barn as the four foot tall ball of fury thundered into his thigh. Digging the small, bloody axe repeatedly into the green flesh, Thorak clambered up the Trolls body. Massive arms flailed wildly in an attempt to remove the bearded fanatic from the Trolls body, but to no avail. Using the axe like a climbing pick, the Dwarf managed to swing himself up and stand on the shoulders of his enemy and wrap his tough legs around its neck.

Again and again the axe rose and fell, each time accompanied by a moan of pain. Broken nose, smashed jaw and diced eyes were only the start of the Troll's problems as Thorak's furious assault continued. Using its oversized nose as a handle, he gouged out the eyes and shattered the teeth of the beast and continually hacked at it until nothing was left but a bloody, fleshy pulp. Stumbling backwards out of the barn doorway, the Troll made one last attempt at ridding himself of the Dwarven assault but Thorak cut the movement short with a final swing of the tiny axe deep into the Troll's brain. Its body limp, it could do nothing but topple backwards with an almighty crash with Thorak riding it like a horse the entire way down.  
Thorak spat on the mess that once was a Trollish head, finding his saliva to be bloody. Flicking his tongue along his teeth he found one to be loose. Without even thinking, he yanked the weakened tooth from the socket and threw it to the ground. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that Thorak remembered he was meant to be fighting alongside a group. His three fellow warriors, if you could ever call an Elf that, stood behind him looking almost useless. With a broad grin which revealed his newly missing tooth, Thorak addressed them in a manner that could be considered cheerfully for a Dwarf.

"Is someone gunna' get me a drink or am I gunna' 'af to beat it arta' yer'?"


End file.
